


The Boy in the Shack

by JoeMerl



Category: Original Work
Genre: Brief Mention of Animal Death(s), Child Abandonment, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time Shifting, Gen, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tumblr Prompt, Werewolf Children, Werewolf-related nudity, Werewolves, Whump, non-sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoeMerl/pseuds/JoeMerl
Summary: I had about two seconds to process this before I heard a small, tremulous voice call “Who’s there?!”I jumped, spun around and glared into the darkness. I quickly grabbed the lantern from the wall and held it out.It was a little kid, wrapped up in my quilt in a corner of the shack.Based on a Tumblr prompt:"A werewolf finds an abandoned whumpee during a full moon."
Relationships: Original Male Character & Original Child Character
Kudos: 4





	The Boy in the Shack

I have a shack in the woods to help me with my condition. It’s about 300 square feet, all one room, with no windows. It’s not exactly the ritz, but it’s sturdy and familiar. My home away from home.

I wiped my feet on the welcome mat and opened the heavy wooden door. I give one last glance up at the full moon, peeking its way through the trees. I can feel it pulling at me. I didn’t have long to get ready.

My battery lantern lit up the black, bare interior of the shack. I hung it on a peg in the wall, took a key from another peg and locked the door behind me. 

There was no furniture, just a heavy wooden chest next to the door. I undid the latches and opened it. I kicked off my shoes and was untucking my shirt when I noticed something. 

The quilt was gone.

It was the only thing in the box most of the month—the warm, soft quilt that my mom had knitted me back when I was little. Some mornings, when I was cold and tired and aching, I would just curl up in it and sleep on the floor for a while before going home. Aside from that it was always in the chest. But now it was gone.

I had about two seconds to process this before I heard a small, tremulous voice call “Who’s there?!”

I jumped, spun around and glared into the darkness. I quickly grabbed the lantern from the wall and held it out.

It was a little kid, wrapped up in my quilt in a corner of the shack.

He cringed back when he saw me. I took a deep, fearful breath.

“Who are you?”

The boy—I was pretty sure it was a boy—opened his mouth but didn’t answer. His lips trembled as he backed up against the wall.

Then I felt it start. My guts writhed inside me like worms. My skin started to prick and itch. My _other self_ was clawing in my mind, trying to force its way out.

I pointed to the door, my hand shaking. “Kid, you have to go. _Now._ ”

He just stared at me.

"I’m not kidding!” I swung the lantern around, trying to illuminate the rest of the room. “Where are your parents?!”

The boy’s face screwed up. I felt a pang, but it was sort of drowned out by the agony of my aching muscles. I let out a growl of pain, forcing my eyes shut. My head was spinning.

“ _GET OUT OF HERE, KID!”_

“I can’t!” he suddenly shouted. 

"I don’t— _AGH!”_

Another wave of pain hit me, and I made a split-second decision. I dropped the lantern, grabbed the key from the wall again and unlocked the door. I spun around on the threshold, pointing at the boy. He had covered his face with the blanket now, and it looked like he was shaking all over. 

“Do NOT leave this shack for any reason, you got that?! There’s a monster outside!” It was basically true, except for the grammatical tense. “And if someone comes to get you—make them stay too!”

He tried to say something, but I didn’t stop to hear—I slammed the door, locked it from the outside, threw the key onto the ground and started to run, hoping to put some distance between me and a potential victim. 

I didn’t get far before the pain became too strong—I collapsed to my knees, hands in the dirt, gasping for breath. Dimly I thought to wrestle out of my shirt, then got started on my belt, but my head was pounding, I couldn’t think straight—I threw back my head and screamed, and the scream became a howl, and then my human self was out for the night.

* * *

The next thing I knew— _really_ knew, when “I” really referred to myself again—I was writhing on the ground, screaming with another spasm of pain. I might have only blacked out for a minute, except that now it was early morning, I was buck naked and there was a half-eaten deer carcass inches from my face.

I groaned, rolled over and blinked up at the sky. “Sorry, Bambi,” I muttered. It took me a few seconds to remember why I was outside. The shack. There’d been a kid in the shack. My eyes widened, and I wracked my brain, forcing myself to remember...I hadn’t gone back for him, had I? Or found him wandering around the woods after I went feral?

No...I couldn’t remember anything like that. Which meant that he was probably still locked inside the shack, possibly freaking out about the crazy man who’d trapped him there. Or maybe someone had found him, in which case I might find a very angry parent or an arrest warrant waiting for me when I got there.

I sat up, hissing in pain, then climbed to my feet. I grabbed a tree for support, took several deep breaths, then hobbled off toward the shack.

I knew these woods pretty well, but it still took me a while to find the shack again. Along the way I blinked sleep from my eyes, thinking of what I’d tell the kid. I’d killed the monster. That was _its_ blood all down my chest, hands and mouth. But my clothes had all been ripped off in the fight. Sure. A dumb kid might believe that, right?

Still, I kept a lookout for my clothes on the way to the shack, hoping that I had managed to get them off while I was still myself. My shirt was alright, but all that I found of my jeans or underwear was shreds. Great. 

I got to the shack and retrieved the key. I paused, wondering if I should knock. Instead I just opened the door gently, peeking inside.

My breath hitched. “The hell...”

The floor, usually unswept but otherwise clean, was now covered with tattered pieces of cloth. I slipped in, bending down to pick one up. I felt my heart sink. It was my mom’s quilt, torn to pieces. And not just that—among the scraps were other pieces of fabric, and pieces of my shoes, and broken glass from my now-destroyed lantern. 

And there, in a different corner of the room from where he’d been last night, was the boy. He was as naked as I was, curled up and shivering. The pale morning light made him look peaked; he was dirty and thin, with ugly black bruises on his shoulder and arm. 

I recognized those injuries. I used to get them all the time, trying to break down the door of the shack. 

I exhaled. “Hell,” I murmured again.

I hesitated, then crept into the room, carefully avoiding the glass on the floor. I searched through the pieces of quilt, then tied the longest strip I could find around my waist; it was just large enough to give me an illusion of decency. Then I knelt by the boy and, avoiding his bruises, nudged him gently between the shoulder blades. 

“Hey, kid. Time to wake up.” 

He groaned, screwed up his face, and then his eyes fluttered open. He looked over at me and screamed, scooting away. He winced in pain, then looked down and noticed his lack of clothing. He yelped, then whimpering, lip trembling as he hurried to cover himself.

I waited a minute for him to say something, but he only gazed at me, trembling. I gave what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Hey. Do you remember what happened to you last night?”

He made a soft, scared noise, looking down at the floor.

“You turned into a werewolf. I did too.”

“Is that why we’re naked?” he croaked. 

“That’s right! Werewolves are naked when they turn back into people. And once we turned into wolves last night, we forgot that we needed our clothes and ripped them right up! So now we’re human again and we both feel silly and embarrassed, huh?”

I forced a laugh. He didn’t seem to find it funny. I still had my shirt in my hand, but now I held it out toward him. 

“This is all that survived. You want it?”

He hesitated, then slowly crawled forward and took it. It fit him like a tent, obviously, falling to about his knees. My bloody hand had left a pale pink handprint on the fabric. 

He hugged himself once he was wearing it, backing away from me again. “Did you eat someone?”

"Huh? Oh.” I looked down at my bloody torso. “No. I ate a deer.”

“That’s mean!”

I grimaced. Without thinking I picked up a handful of scraps from the floor.

“You ripped up my mom's quilt. That was meaner.” 

“ _I_ didn’t rip it up!”

“Yes, you did. Even if you don’t remember it. But I’m not mad,” I added quickly, forcing myself to calm down. “Werewolves do things like that when they change. We can’t help it. Nobody should get yelled at for what they do as a wolf.” I let the scraps fall from my fingers. “How’d you get out here, anyway?”

Once again he looked away. “Is this your house?” he said. “I thought it was empty.”

“I don’t live here, if that’s what you mean. It’s where I come to transform. See those marks?” I pointed to the scratches all over the walls. “Ever since I was a kid, my dad would would lock me in here so that I wouldn’t hurt anybody. Is that what your mom or dad did? Are they coming to pick you up?”

"No.” His voice cracked as he pulled his legs up to his chest. 

“Then how’d you get here?”

He shrugged, burying his head in his knees.

“You have to know. Come on, who brought you out here?”

“The other werewolves.”

I bristled. “Other werewolves?”

He sniffled. ”My momma...said that I had to live with them now. That they’d take care of me instead of her. But—th-they left without me. They said I was too weak to be a real werewolf, but...they might come back if...I could do it all by myself.” 

_Those_ kind of werewolves. And some lady had left her kid with them and run off? I heard myself growl, and suddenly realized that my muscles were tense, the hairs all over my body rising. I took a slow, steady breath. The moon was still 99% full; the last thing I needed right now was to let my temper get the best of me.

“Do you remember anything about last night? After I locked you in here?” 

He shook his head, but then said, “I felt scary.”

“Yeah?”

“Like I was real mad about everything, for a really long time. So mad that it _hurt._ And—at the beginning and the end, when I turned into a wolf and back? That hurt a lot, too.”

I nodded. “Yeah. It really is scary, isn’t it? That’s why werewolves have to be really brave.” I had a sudden brainstorm. “Hey, do you know the Bravery Spell?”

He blinked. “What’s that?”

“The Bravery Spell. It’s a special thing that werewolves can do to feel more brave. My dad taught it to me. Come on.”

I stood up, ignoring the obvious awkwardness of this whole situation. “First put your hands on your hips...then throw out your chest, like you’re a superhero. Then say, ‘HA HA HA, _AWOOOOOO!’_ ” I threw back my head and howled at the ceiling, pounding my bare chest at the same time. 

" _Ha ha, a-oooo._ ”

“No, like you mean it! HA HA HA, _AWOOOOOO!_ ”

“ _Ha ha ha, a-oooooo!_ ” 

“Now spin around three times!”

We both did, though he fell over on the second round, and my makeshift loincloth came undone.

“ _Ow!_ It hurts.”

"Yeah,” I said, quickly tying the quilt back on. “We’re both still sore from last night. But I bet you feel braver, don’t you?”

"...Maybe a _little._ ”

“See? We’re strong, brave werewolves!”

I made a poise like a weightlifter showing off his muscles; he copied me, looking totally ridiculous in my oversized shirt. We both laughed nervously.

I knelt back down to get closer to his level. I could see the dark bags under his eyes and knew that I probably had them, too. 

“So what’s your name, fellow brave werewolf?” 

"Mikey.”

“I’m Tanner. Now, come on. We should get out of here.”

He shrank back. “Where are we going?” he asked in a small voice.

"I’m gonna take you to my place.” Granted, I hadn’t really planned what I was going to do _after_ that, but I wasn’t about to leave him alone. 

He shook his head, suddenly looking at me with suspicion. “You’re a stranger,” he said. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

I groaned inwardly, but forced myself to smile. “You’re right, Mikey. That’s true, most of the time. But what are you gonna do? Live in this shack forever?”

“The other werewolves...said they might come back and get me.”

I sighed. “I hate to say this, kid...but I don’t think they’re going to. And I don’t think you'd really want to go with them if they did. They sound pretty mean, leaving you here all alone.”

He fidgeted nervously. Then I heard his stomach rumble. He held onto the front of my shirt, looking pained.

“Are you hungry? Transforming takes a lot out of you, and you didn’t have anything to eat last night.”

“I haven’t eaten since the day before yesterday,” he confessed.

I felt another jolt of alarm. 

"Well, I’ve got food at my place. Have you ever had chocolate-chip pancakes?”

I recognize that, under normal circumstances, a nearly-naked man luring a child into his car with candy is a bad thing. Given the circumstances, I defy you to tell me what I should have done differently.

We exited the cabin into the bright sunlight outside. Mikey yawned. I was about ready to collapse myself, but tried to look chipper as I closed the door behind us. 

I led the way back to the road, holding the quilt to keep it from slipping. Mikey trailed behind me. I think he was still scared of me. Or scared of everything, maybe.

I remembered my first transformation. I’d been a mess afterwards. But my dad had been there to comfort me. Who did he have? Just me?

I suddenly stopped, making a superhero poise again. 

“HA HA HA! _AWOOOOOO!”_

I pounded myself on the chest and spun around three times, stopping at Mikey’s confused stare.

“Sorry,” I said, grinning sheepishly. “I was getting kind of scared again! What about you? You wanna give the spell another go?”

"...I guess.”

It was a short walk to the road, but we did it a third time before we got there.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m always kind of confused what the term “whump” means, but I think this qualifies.
> 
> I guess this could be considered a companion piece to [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870131/chapters/65561041), which has a similar inciting incident but is otherwise pretty different. (Maybe they're set in the same universe? I dunno.)
> 
> I'm putting this down as complete, but I may expand on it later. Subscribe if you're interested, I guess.


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